


The Ritual

by Jaybeesaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 21:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeesaur/pseuds/Jaybeesaur
Summary: A strange beast takes interest in Dean while his dad is on an extended hunting trip with his Uncle, Bobby. He has a responsibility to keep his younger brother safe, but who can he turn to while they're away?





	1. Predictable Unpredicatability

For the longest time he thought it unpredictable. An indecipherable codex of behavior depicted by a ferocious, undiscovered beast with no obvious motive. In the beginning, he didn’t even recognize the monster was sentient. One night, however, it spoke to him. Weeks of silent stalking and posturing had passed since he had first noticed this creature lurking in the shadows. Months of attempting to interact with it, only to be threatened with growls and clawed swipes at his form. He caressed a scar as he walked through the street on his way home, words from the beast echoing loudly in his thoughts.

Why the beast had chosen to target him, he may never know. He was a small-town guy. Serving as an apprentice for the local mechanic, while attending the local high school. LOCAL. He doesn’t explore much, or at least he had never had the inclination to before encountering the beast. But, now, this small town was feeling more peculiar every day. Uneasiness followed him everywhere he went, having replaced a feeling of comfort and safety. He felt mystery; brought on by this creature. Unraveling it was eating away at the life his parents had built for him here. 

“Dean! You’re home!” A familiar voice called out to him, as the door clicked closed behind him, footsteps padding rapidly in his direction.

“Heya, Sammy!” Dean said, sweeping his brother up in an overbearing hug, squeezing him tightly. He set the boy back down on his feet, ruffling his hair.

“It’s Sam.” He mentioned in his rebellious tween way. “And you’re going to throw your back out picking me up like that one day! I’m not a little kid anymore!”

Dean chuckled. Sure, Sam was 4 years younger than him; but he was already just as tall. He was right, it took all Dean had to lift him a few inches off the ground. “You’ll always be little to me, Sammy! You’re my kid brother!” He said, jokingly jabbing at his arm.

“Dad called earlier and said he won’t be home tonight. Still on that hunting trip with Uncle Bobby.” Sam said, walking back towards the kitchen. He had stayed home sick from school today. 

It was the beginning of deer season. Not unusual for them to stay out for entire weekends. Dean set his backpack down by the door and thanked the universe for gracing him with teachers that understand kids his age have lives beyond school. 

“What do you want for dinner, then?” He called out, propping his feet up on the coffee table in the living room and reaching for the remote control. Dinner was always Sam’s choice. Dean didn’t care what it was, long as he could eat. He’d bet money on pizza again tonight.

“Could we have pizza again tonight?” From the kitchen. Dean grinned, twisting the cap off his soda. Predictable.


	2. Unwilling Willfullness

A gust blew in from his cracked bedroom window, stirring Dean awake. He knew he closed it before falling asleep; knew he had locked it, just like always. The beast must be here.

This wasn’t uncommon anymore. He sighed, switching on the table lamp by his bed, startling the beast like it always does. It scurried over to the corner, clinging to the wall. He didn’t expect to see it tonight. Usually gets a warning to know it’s on its way. A cawing crow obviously directing his screeching at him, a windchime spinning on a still day; anything completely out of place or super attention demanding. Too tired for this.

“Go away, beast.” He shooed, wafting his hand toward the window. It lowered itself off the wall, placing one foot after another on the carpet. Unfazed. It never listens to Dean anyway, didn’t expect it to work this time either. He rolled his eyes as the beast took a step closer.

He knows what it wants. What it came here for time and time again. He grabbed the knife he learned to keep under his pillow, pointed it at the beast. He hated this part the most. He would threaten the beast, try to injure it, fight tooth-and-nail to get away from it. Didn’t matter. The beast always gets what it wants. Honestly, he was too tired to make the argument.

The beast saw the knife, growled and knocked it out of Dean’s hand. Dean rolled his eyes again, exasperatedly pulling the blanket up over his head. If he wasn’t in the situation he was, he’d probably laugh about how childish the movement felt; to hide under the covers from the monster in your room. He felt the beast grab his ankle, pull him. Wrap it’s arm under his pliant torso, caress him like a willful lover. He didn’t want to fight it. Too much energy gets wasted that way. He wished it would just stop coming for him in the dead of the night. Stop stalking him like it did. Leave him the Hell alone.

But he also hates himself for the feeling he gets when the beast is absent. Hates himself for knowing he shows signs of Stockholm Syndrome. Hates himself for the way he doesn’t want to fool himself by trying to push the beast off of him anymore, how he would rather pull it into his arms. He hates himself for letting it come to this. Who was he putting up this show for anyway? It’s not like anyone knew, or like anyone would know unless he told them. He often questioned if he was actually unwilling or if he had just felt like that for so long it became habit.

He shuddered as the beast nuzzled into his neck, unfurling it’s black-as-night wings.


End file.
